If I’d been rooted to the spot before, now I was practically cemented there, like some sort of decorative garden gnome stuck in the middle of a very strange, very public, reality show. My brain was working overtime, trying to process what was happening in front of me, but the words just wouldn’t come. It was as though my thoughts were all tangled up in a giant ball of yarn, and I couldn’t find the end to start unraveling the mess. Meanwhile, Dolores and Genevieve were carrying on their little performance like they were auditioning for a daytime soap opera.
Dolores, bless her manipulative little heart, was in her element. She turned to Aiden with a look of exaggerated solemnity, the kind that only she could pull off without bursting into laughter. “Well, Aiden,” she began, her voice dripping with the kind of fake concern that made my teeth ache, “now that the woman has been found and all the evidence is crystal clear, what do you plan to do for Genevieve?”